“When you thought you were dreaming? You’re dreaming still, Ivy. That’s why I won’t let you decide till you’ve had time to wake up and think. Cold, grey, early-morning thinking... Perhaps I’m dreaming too. It seems so long... And you’re so absurdly young, Ivy; I’m half a generation older. When I saw you outside Covent Garden last night, I felt I’d do anything to make you less miserable. Anything in the world. If we hadn’t been in a public street, I’d have taken you in my arms and kissed you... I thought and argued all the evening; I wished I had more to give you. And I was glad for my own selfish sake that you were unhappy. I wasn’t particularly happy myself; and I suddenly saw that, if I could give you everything I had, if I could make a new life, a happy life for you, Ivy, I should be happy myself. You see, I’ve not been thinking of you very much,” he laughed.
She turned quickly and put her face up to him.
“Kiss me now, Eric,” she begged.
“I will, when you’re sure you’re in love with me,—if you ever are.”
“I am! You know I am! I’d do anything for you. Isn’t that love?”
“You don’t yet feel that I’m essential to you. That’s why you need time. And, if you knew what love was, you wouldn’t need me to tell you.”
Ivy knitted her brows and looked away.
“I thought I did,” she murmured. “I thought I couldn’t get on without Johnnie. That was why; he threatened to go away....”
Eric watched her out of the corner of one eye:
“And you find you can get on without him?”